


Crimson Gold

by Syaunei



Series: Crimson Gold [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:23:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syaunei/pseuds/Syaunei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello everyone!</p><p>I'm well aware that this ship has little to no following in the fandom, and while I'm a hardcore Rumbeller myself, this story simply begged to be written. </p><p>Dear reader, I'm glad you chose to put your faith in me, and delve into the unknown! I hope I won't disappoint, and, who knows? Maybe I even manage to convert someone to start shipping these two? My ships - HA! I have an armada. ;P</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. He Left Me What?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I'm well aware that this ship has little to no following in the fandom, and while I'm a hardcore Rumbeller myself, this story simply begged to be written. 
> 
> Dear reader, I'm glad you chose to put your faith in me, and delve into the unknown! I hope I won't disappoint, and, who knows? Maybe I even manage to convert someone to start shipping these two? My ships - HA! I have an armada. ;P

The sight of Mr. Gold always brought unabashed loathing and a hint of fear racing across everybody’s features when he was passing through, seemingly on a leisurely stroll that was anything but, his single-minded purpose the collection of rent or loan payments. His reputation was well established and nobody questioned his motives beyond a simple wish for financial gain, calling him a dirty old miser and a scrooge quite openly behind his back, only to fall quiet and sweat slightly when he’d come knocking to collect.

Ruby hated him as much as the next person, her rage swelling on the inside when he’d come on the first of every month, precise like damned Swiss clockwork – to squeeze the last penny from Granny. They always seemed to break even, they’d have just enough to pay him and cover their expenses, but the business never flourished quite enough for them to be able to implement any actual changes in the diner or the inn, changes that would have surely, with time, returned the investment so that they could _finally_ get a break and not sweat over each and every cent. 

Ruby had a love-hate relationship with Granny, and while she needed and sort of even liked her job, waiting tables was not exactly the career choice that she was going for. Sure, she was young and pretty _now_ , so the tips flowed in quite bountifully (Granny let her keep half, which she used to buy make-up and all the pretty clothes that her grandma would have loved to torch for being “too provocative”; but Ruby argued once that her skimpy uniform was what was getting them enough cash to pay for the dizzying rent to the “loan shark dinosaur”) but what would happen once she was older, her body less fit, not quite tight in all of the places that men just loved to ogle at? Of course, that wasn’t bound to happen for a very long time, but still… No matter how obligated she felt to help Granny out, it was by no means her dream to stay stuck here all of her life, serving bacon and eggs, pie and beer to leering customers day in and day out, till she was all wrinkled and gray, her youth and vigor spent.

Speaking of gray hair, her striking kohl rimmed eyes shot sharply towards the door as the little bell chimed, announcing the next customer. She was used to, actually conditioned would be the proper term for it, looking at the door immediately upon hearing the shrill ring, knowing what to expect, mulling over in her head what certain patrons usually ordered (luckily, most of them were creatures of habit) and fixing her customary wolfish grin to greet them. This man, however, was one of the very select few that got a sneer from her instead. She couldn’t really help it, it was an unconscious reaction; a well deserved one at that. 

Had there been another waitress, she would have been more than happy to delegate the task to her (or threaten to blab all of the poor girl’s secrets in front of the rush hour crowd if need be), anything to get out of serving this misanthropic old bastard. 

Alas, she was alone, so she straightened her microscopic apron and lazily approached his table, gaze fixed on her little notepad to avoid eye-contact as much as possible. Twiddling a pen between her fingers, she cast him a brief glance of professional courtesy and asked in an automated sort of voice, like she had been programmed to do it, completely devoid of her usual flair. 

“What will it be, Mr. Gold?”

Their gazes locked for a brief moment, and she could see a hint of amusement glint in his dark brown eyes, suddenly alight with suppressed mischief.

“Just coffee as usual, dear.” 

She could almost taste the palpable rush of bile that bubbled within her as he used that sickening term of false endearment. Everybody was his “dear”; but he didn’t mean it with any of them, instead using it to poke and prod people, rubbing his superiority in their indebted faces. He was well aware of the fact that he owned all of Storybrooke, directly or indirectly, and that everyone depended on him for _something_ , but that didn’t mean that she had to be polite with the guy. Quite the contrary, as long as they had enough to pay the rent, she would take pleasure in providing less than satisfactory service. She turned around to fetch the pot, unwilling to dawdle.

“How would you like your coffee?” She said out of habit, even though she had intended on ignoring him for the rest of his stay.

“The usual.” He replied with that mocking, lopsided grin she could hear seeping through his Scottish accent.

“As black as your soul, then…” She mumbled under her breath as she poured him a cup. 

Ruby strolled leisurely to his table and dropped it in front of him, half-wishing she could just spill the scalding hot liquid into his lap, but restrained herself. She had no doubts in her mind that he would be more than delighted to press charges and take the diner from under their feet if he so desired. And no matter how satisfying it would be to see him lose composure and get second degree burns on his private bits (if he even had any, nobody had ever seen him accompanied, and he seemed thoroughly uninterested in carnal affairs, so it was quite possible that the guy was a eunuch or something), she just couldn’t bring herself to do something that would break Granny’s heart. The diner and the B&B were her life. 

Gold looked up in brief acknowledgement and offered a sly grin as he said: “Thank you, dearie.”

Ugh. That word was even worse. It felt even more condescending than “dear”, if that was even possible. The disgusted look on her face must have registered with him, because he asked with a false sheepish grin plastered on his face:

“What’s the matter, dearie?” The corners of his lips twitched slightly as a shadow of a smirk flickered on his wrinkled visage.

“Must you use that word?” She asked, thoroughly annoyed, feeling like he had repeated it just to spite her. 

“What else should I use, dear?” He asked, trying to appear innocent and failing miserably. Even though she could see right through it, Ruby couldn’t help but notice the endearment go down a notch. But then again, he could have just switched because repeating it a third time would have lost the initial impact. 

That, or pushed her over the edge to slosh the burning hot coffee over his trousers after all. 

“I do have a name, you know.” She half-grumbled, rolling her eyes as she stood there, her hips cocked to the side, one of her arms resting on it for support. It was supposed to make her look fearsome.

In reality, all it managed to do was to make her look deliciously pouty. He let out a barely audible chuckle as he looked at her with mild interest, as if he was trying to decide the best course of action.

“Ruby…” He accentuated; the thickness of the brogue suddenly more pronounced; his voice velvety and deep. “Are you sure that would be… appropriate?”

Only then did she realize that she managed to fall into a trap. Worst of all, it was her own fault. Her name suddenly crossing his lips felt like a curse, in a way even worse than any old-world terms he could come up with. Shuddering at the thought, _“What the hell was I thinking?”_ a slight blush of embarrassment creeping up her cheeks, she turned on her heel in a flash, storming off to hide behind the counter and pretend to be busy with cleaning the coffee machine, or washing the glasses. Preferably the coffee machine. That way her back would be turned on him. 

As she was changing the filters, the diner was eerily quiet, save for the soft rustle of Mr. Gold’s newspapers every now and again, and she was relieved that the old fart wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. She had never been a coward and was quite renowned for her devil-may-care, often most brazen attitude, fearless and cheeky with everyone. She had no qualms with slapping away grubby hands of drunken customers or even providing snarky comments, for there was nobody in this little town that scared her. 

Above all else, Storybrooke was a boring little provincial town, where gossip traveled faster than the speed of light, and nothing interesting or exciting ever happened. Every aspect of life was routine, so much so that she would often change the way she dressed, usually in a constant curve towards “less is more”, just to provoke a reaction out of somebody, anybody. Usually the only thing she managed to accomplish were outraged whispers of moralistically inclined old prudes and enthusiastic whistles from the approving male populace. 

Yet nothing had ever managed to rattle her like this little exchange. 

He didn’t even _do_ anything, she chided herself. But there was just something innately unnerving about the guy. No wonder he was still alive despite being universally hated, she mused, he wasn’t exactly much to look at – a slight man, about her height, (which actually meant that he was _shorter_ , for she always wore heeled boots) but his inner energy, his presence was no joke. He was just as intimidating as that tall and lanky bald gorilla he would sometimes have in tow. Except for some reason, even the freakishly huge “Lurch guy” as she preferred to call him, had nothing on the menacing aura that Gold seemed to exude effortlessly. Gold was a heartless bastard, but nobody dared lift a finger against him, he was simply too powerful. 

Ruby scoffed at the thought. Powerful? Like she gave a damn. The old cod could be the president of the universe and she still wouldn’t care. Sure, he had the entire town in his clutches, but that didn’t mean that Ruby had to bow down her head. She was stubborn and fiercely independent, and just because he was “the Big Bad” did by no means alter her opinion. _“Do your worst, Mr. Grinch.”_ She thought defiantly.

The dampened clacking of his cane across the diner floor snapped her out of her reverie and she turned slightly, feeling quite relieved that he was about to leave. 

Except he was going in the wrong direction. 

Her eyes widened and then narrowed as his back finally disappeared behind the restroom doors. 

Damn it. When she finally thought she was blessedly rid of him for the day. 

He was just so damn _unsettling_. She wasn’t sure whether it was because he seemed hell-bent on bleeding them dry with his sky-high rent, or perhaps it was the fault of that omnipresent, knowing little smile which unnerved her to no end. Whatever it was, she was smart enough to know that he shouldn’t be crossed. At least not out in the open. 

Though, petty things like getting him lukewarm coffee, or putting sugar in (which he hated), now _those_ were definitely not beneath her. She snickered in delight, contemplating other spiteful little strategies she could employ to piss him off without him knowing whether they were deliberate in nature or not. 

Actually, he would probably know regardless, but wouldn’t be able to do anything other than grumble. 

Which would actually be an accomplishment on her part, since he always seemed so ridiculously composed.

She took a cloth and started wiping the tables. Might as well appear busy, because there was no more work to be done behind the counter and she was running out of things to do. Casting a furtive glance out the window, she prayed for customers. It was a slow morning and they really could use every penny, even though right now, the only thing she wanted was a distraction, somebody else to focus on. If that meant ignoring his summons for a refill, all the better. Customers absolutely _despised_ that. 

She tackled the table with a toothy grin, her heart nearly jumping out of her chest as the restroom doors squeaked open to reveal the town ogre clad in one of his pristine suits. He was about the only person in Storybrooke that wore such expensive-looking clothes. Well, the only one besides Regina perhaps, but Madame Mayor had a reason behind her dress-code. Black was flawless on her, tight fitting suit jackets and pencil skirts, coupled with gleaming stilettos were nothing short of impeccable formal wear. It made her look like she meant business and commanded respect, while at the same time looking tasteful and elegant. 

To be fair, there was nothing wrong with Gold’s suits. They were the epitome of tailored perfection, such a perfect fit that it didn’t even look like a second skin, it was his skin. Nobody had ever seen the man wearing anything else. Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if the guy actually slept in them. Either that, or in a pair of silky black pajamas, or something equally extravagant as that. _“What the fuck?”_ Ruby was half-tempted to slap herself. Her brain was obviously working overtime. Maybe she should lay off the coffee. And the sugar. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him fiddling with his wallet, leaving a bill on the table. As he headed for the exit, Ruby maneuvered deftly around the table to avoid him, already on her way to wipe his table next (even though he couldn’t have made much of a mess, really); already fully expecting to see a lousy tip, or none at all (the guy was, after all, a scrooge); coming to a dead halt as her eyes zoomed in on the numbers printed on it. 

Her mouth formed a little red circle as she grabbed the crisp, green twenty dollar bill and pivoted to look after him, wide-eyed and dumbstruck. 

He was at the door, about to push them away, when she managed to squeeze out a tad louder than she would have hoped: “Eh… What about the change?”

Gold did a half-turn, pausing at the door and leaned on his cane, both hands resting on its golden handle. A strange sort of smile tugged on his lips, something between a smile and a smirk, halfway there. He replied simply, like it was self-evident:

“Keep it.”

She blinked a couple of times, her hand frozen stiff in an awkward, slightly stretched-out position. He simply smiled at her baffled expression and added:

“I would hope the blackness of my soul has nothing to do with you refusing a tip. Have a nice day.” 

The amusement on his features was unmistakable as he nodded curtly and left the diner, Ruby staring after him, unable to move a muscle. 

She shook her head, smooth red and black tresses flaying wildly about her face. She went to the register feeling slightly mortified. 

_“He heard it. “_

She used both palms to slap her cheeks in reprimand. 

Ruby would have expected him to trip her with his cane for that comment, and instead he left her a _tip_. A huge one at that. 

Maybe the guy was a masochist or something? 

Suddenly she had the urge to do even worse next time, just to see how he’d react. 

This was a tip she definitely wouldn’t be sharing with Granny.


	2. How to Make a Whale Wail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys will have as much fun reading this as I had writing it. Cheers! =D

The next time Mr. Gold stepped into the diner, which was incidentally a week later (not that she was counting or anything) she felt no more prepared to deal with him than on their previous encounter. She watched him carefully from behind the counter, a mixture of relief and displeasure swirling within her when he failed to acknowledge her presence. 

This time at least, the diner wasn’t completely empty. There were two girls sitting in the corner next to the blind-covered glass front of the establishment; no doubt engaged in vapid gossip. Ruby disliked the inseparable duo, partly because she could see them attempting to hide the disgusted curls of their lips while no doubt commenting on her heavy make-up or the length of her uniform, but mostly because they were self-absorbed and thought too highly of themselves, going through great pains to show off their branded clothing while Ruby knew they barely had a penny to their name after their mother squandered her deceased husband’s fortune.

A few feet away from them sat Dr. Whale, an insufferable womanizer who thought himself irresistible, while he was, in fact, tragically deluded. Presently, the seat across him was poignantly vacant; his sour expression clearly indicating that he had either been stood up, or recently dumped. He gulped down his drink, and then motioned for her, his teeth clenched. 

She got to his table, keeping a comfortable distance (the man had a hard time keeping his hands to himself once he’d had a couple of drinks) and asked politely:

“Anything else, Doctor?” 

Using the back of his fingers, he pushed the glass forward and mumbled in a hoarse voice: “Another. Keep ‘em coming. Oh, and give me a slice of that apple pie.”

With a quick nod, she hurried to get his order, reminding herself not to refill his glass more than twice. He already had three. This had the potential to turn ugly, and if it came down to it, she was more than willing to break a bottle over his head. Of all the people in the diner, there was about nobody who would come to her rescue, and she had never been much of a damsel in distress anyhow. 

As she carried the tray to his table, a sudden movement stopped her dead in her tracks. She glared at the person who dared stretch a black, polished cane in her way, knowing full well that she had (albeit unknowingly) managed to ignore him ever since he came in a couple of minutes ago. Well, goodie. The fossil could wait. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Gold. I will be with you in a moment.” She squeezed through her teeth, failing miserably at her attempt to sound civil. 

His lips however, curled into an amused smile as he replied pleasantly: “I have no doubt about that, dearie.”

With that, his cane slipped away, joining his side at once, and she turned her attention to the good doctor. She lingered for a moment, noticing how hatefully he stabbed the fork into his slice, almost like he would have rather wished it were someone’s face. Torn between a laugh and a shiver, she finally took a step into Mr. Gold’s direction. 

Needless to say, the pawnbroker sat as far away as humanly possible from the rest, but then again… he was hardly human to begin with. 

“What will it be, Mr. Gold?” She asked all business-like, pursing her full red lips at him absently. 

When his silence finally made her pay attention, she noticed that he wasn’t even looking at her, his gaze fixed instead on Dr. Whale’s personal vendetta against the pie. She let out an involuntary chuckle, suddenly feeling self-conscious as she was greeted by Gold’s almost conspiratorial gaze. He was smiling too, except it didn’t look faked this time, the old miser actually managed to look genuinely amused. 

“It would seem that your apple pie brings out some… rather violent tendencies. It may be a good idea for me to avoid it then.”

Ruby couldn’t help but chuckle at that, showing off her sparkly white grin. The guy might’ve crawled straight out of a tar pit, but he could be funny when he felt like it. 

“Yeah, that would be a good idea.” She conceded, giving credit where it was due. 

Gold seemed pleased as he placed his order: “I think I’ll have a slice of pecan pie.”

“A wise choice.” Ruby murmured as she noted it down. She didn’t actually need to write his order down, it was simple enough to memorize, and the diner was nearly empty anyhow, but it’s become a force of habit, and she realized that it might not be a bad idea to have an extra set of records lying around. She also justified it by the fact that she got distracted sometimes, especially during rush hour, when it was nearly impossible to memorize the never-ending flood of orders. 

She turned around, dotting the “i” and said to herself, tilting her head gently in the process: “I hope you’re not allergic to nuts…”

“Well, in that case I should consider myself lucky that we have a doctor in here. As distracted… as he might be at the moment.”

Ruby froze; eyebrows suddenly drawn together, her mouth hung agape, her face stuck in a expression that could have been perfectly described as: “what-the-hell-have-I-done”. She was immediately immensely grateful for the fact that Gold couldn’t see her face. Maybe he wouldn’t notice? But then she realized that she wasn’t moving at all. Even if he had any doubts before, her faltering mid-step was a dead give-away. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth, head jerking almost imperceptibly, managing to at least resist the urge to stomp her foot. _“Stupid! That was so stupid!”_

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she went to fetch Mr. Gold’s already tardy order. After this blunder, she felt quite undeserving of a tip and secretly hoped he wouldn’t give her one, as per usual. Then she could go back to her full time job of hating him.

And that’s when she knew herself that she’d finally lost her marbles. There was no other explanation. 

She _loved_ tips. They were, quite literally, her bread and butter (actually her mascara and nail-polish, but that was beside the point) and her wishing to actually _not get one_ ( _especially_ after the one the tightwad had left for her last time) was a sure sign of going off her rocker. Suddenly she wondered how much Dr. Hopper charged for his sessions. 

After adding two bountiful spoonfuls of whipped cream to Mr. Gold’s pecan pie, she placed it on the tray carefully, carrying it to the man with a slight swagger. 

She felt considerably less flustered than before as she dropped the plate in front of him, immediately flinging the tray around to rest against her back, holding it with both hands, swaying slightly on the soles of her feet, not quite sure what to say next. Luckily, some sort of primitive waitressing programming kicked in as she offered with a smile: “Enjoy your pie!” 

With that, she spun on her heel and headed back to the counter, inwardly whimpering at the fact that her voice sounded a bit too cheerful for her taste a moment ago. 

As if on some bizarre cue of providence, the obnoxious pair of girls asked for their check, Ruby slipping back into her comfortable routine once more. 

Once they had left, Ruby dusted off her apron absent-mindedly, Whale’s slurred grumble calling for a refill. This was the last one he was getting, Ruby mused as she poured him a drink.

She had barely enough time to wash some left-over dishes when he raised his hand into the air once more, slightly slumped in his seat, looking thoroughly trashed. _“You’re not getting any more drinks from me, Mister.”_ Ruby thought gingerly.

She proceeded to ignore him and started to dry the dishes, when he let out a guttural, strangled moan, beckoning her. With a frustrated sigh, Ruby whipped the kitchen cloth down and marched straight to his table, ready to give him a piece of her mind, quite willing to accompany it with a well-aimed kick in the ass in case he’d refuse to drag his sorry (soon to be sore) behind out of the diner. 

“I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink, doc. Better go home now.” 

But the stubborn drunk refused to move, picking up his glass lightly, only to bash it against the table next, making Ruby flinch slightly. 

He cast her a dazed glare through the ruffled, messy strands of his thin hair which clung to the sweaty surface of his forehead. There was something wild and unhinged in his eyes as he spoke: 

“Women are poison… Poison, you hear?”

He was obviously completely wasted, and Ruby knew she had to be careful.

“No, doctor. I’m pretty sure the poison in this case is your preferred whiskey. I think you should go home now.”

But he continued to rave on, his speech slurred, as he waved his hands around, as if trying to chase away an alcoholic haze. 

“You’re all the same… You just –“He hiccuped. “- take what you want and then –“ A slight garbled burp surfaced, sounding like it was formed underwater, making her face pinch in disgust. “ – you throw us away like trash.” He finished indignantly, shaking his head. 

“Not all women are the same, doc, but I guess you just had shitty luck so far.”

He looked back at her, his gaze suddenly searching (for what exactly, she didn’t know) but it caused her instincts to kick in, some primitive built-in alarm system going off, red lights blaring in her head. She took half a step back when his hand snapped shut around her wrist in a flash, so fast Ruby had no time to react. 

“Have a drink with me.” He half pleaded, half demanded. 

“You’re plastered, doc, I don’t think that would be such a good idea. Let me go.” Her voice adamant, she glared at him, trying to break free. 

But he would not comply, his fingers tightening around her hand like a vice. While at first his touch had been merely sweaty and highly uncomfortable, now it was painful as he was cutting off her bloodstream. 

“Oh, come on, Ruby… Be a good girl and sit with me.” 

She immediately mourned the oversight on her part. She should have brought the bottle with her and brandished it as a weapon. The only thing she could do now was struggle and hope that he was too sloshed to maintain his balance. 

“Let me go! I’ll call the police!” She growled, her teeth bared menacingly. 

“Now, now, be a good girl and – “ 

Ruby would have none of his nonsense, so she dug the nails of her left hand deep into his grubby paw, eliciting a loud groan from the drunken moron, quite willing to bite him or kick him in the groin, but then she barely registered the swift, uncontrolled motion of his heavy hand as he smacked her across the face. It wasn’t as strong as she would have thought initially, since he was reeling, but for a brief moment her vision went red as she was sent backwards, her thighs bruising on the edge of the table as she crashed into it.

Before she could get to her senses, and had half a mind to grab the shaker of pepper from the table and go straight for the bastard’s eyes, the good doctor was choking, a swift move of something slender and black smashing against his windpipe in a long, smooth swipe. 

The next thing she knew, Whale was on the floor, on his knees, clutching his neck and having a coughing fit. With a lightning quick jab to his shoulder, he was sent backwards, now laying sprawled across the floor, the sharper end of the cane digging into his chest as Mr. Gold loomed above him, leaning heavily onto the cane; a merciless expression on his face.

“When a lady says no, a _man_ listens.” He growled, his teeth bared in a menacing gesture. Not that Whale could even register it. He whimpered instead, trying to grab onto the cane, but it only caused him more pain as Gold drove it down harder. 

“Which must mean… that you are not a man, but scum. Aren’t you, laddie?”

Ruby watched in amazement as Whale gurgled unintelligibly; something that couldn’t possibly have been taken as an intelligent response. 

“Tell it like it _is_!” Gold yelled at the helpless drunk at his feet. 

“Yes – Yes I am –“ Whale choked.

But it seemed like Gold wasn’t satisfied quite yet: “What are you, boy?”

As if he had finally gotten his brain back from the steel grip of alcohol, or perhaps it was merely a belated sense of self-preservation kicking in, Whale wailed as loudly as his crushed torso would allow: “Scum! I’m scum! Please –“

With that, Gold wrenched his cane away, stepping aside with a grace surprising for a man with a limp, looking at the broken-down man at his feet with a sneer of obvious distaste.

Ruby couldn’t look away. Her gaze was fixated on her unlikely savior’s face, observing the look of grim satisfaction lighting up his features, completely mesmerized. Her eyes must have been wide as saucers when Gold finally turned to her and asked in a perfectly calm voice:

“Are you all right, dearie?”

The man had just fucking _brutalized_ her assailant, leaving him broken like a rag doll on the floor of her diner, for all intents and purposes – _wiping the floor with him_ – and was now calm and content like they were discussing the _bloody weather_. 

She gave him an incredulous look, her brain momentarily out of order. 

“What’s the matter dearie, cat got your tongue?” He asked teasingly. 

She still couldn’t wrap her head around this. The first thing she managed to utter breathlessly was the honest to God truth, floating on the surface of her mind at the time.

“Mr. Gold… You’re a beast.” With that said, her gaze was still fixed on his, and he started laughing, looking thoroughly amused, due to her dumbstruck expression, no doubt. 

She was aware that she must have looked spectacularly embarrassing, half sitting on a table, her hands frozen stiff in a merciless grip on its edge, and that bewildered, half-smitten look etched on her face. 

His ringing laughter finally coming to a halt, dying in a snicker across his lips, his eyes fluttered open, lit mischievously. 

“That, I won’t disagree with.”

She was so intent on watching him settle down; collected once more, that she barely noticed Whale shuffling to his feet, half-crawling out of the diner. The sound of the bell snapped her out of the hypnosis as her mind registered the drunken doctor’s departure. 

“I hope you will testify in my favor.” Gold stated, the tone of his voice once again his usual, business-like timbre. 

“What?” Ruby cast a confused glance his way. 

“In case he decides to press charges.” He said simply.

Ruby half huffed, half snorted as she gave him an incredulous look. 

“Let him try! It was self-defense.”

“It was not me that he assaulted, dearie.”

It took a moment for her mind to register what he meant exactly, and she laughed, suddenly embarrassed at how fuzzy her brain was. Must have been that slap, knocked something loose upstairs. 

“Even better!” Ruby grinned in delight, feeling her wits slowly return as inspiration struck. 

“I can see the headlines already: “ _Innocent young girl saved from a drunken assailant by a heroic customer!_ ” Extra, extra! Oh… Sydney’s gonna have a field day. Finally something tabloid-worthy.”

Gold chortled as he struggled to reply: “Oh, yes. Except I am sure that the facts will get so twisted, that in the end, the assailant would turn out to be me, and Whale would be dubbed the hero.”

Ruby laughed at the grain of truth carefully wrapped in his sharp wit and offered smugly: “Oh, no Mr. Gold. They’d turn Whale into a victim and dub _me_ the hero.”

He simply smirked at her. “I wouldn’t mind reading that version of events.” 

“Well, I’m no damsel in distress, that’s for sure!” Ruby let out a giggle, her body finally relaxing enough for her to stand up and stretch her recalcitrant limbs. 

“Far from it.” Gold commented; his lips stretched into that knowing little smile which usually made her want to smack him across the face with a tray. 

“Well, you still saved my butt. I guess that makes you my knight in shining armor.” She teased.

Gold let out an amused snicker. “I think you had it right the first time around, dearie.”

His eyes were lit once again by that mysterious deviousness, but strangely, she could feel no ill will in their depths. He looked like he was trying to get a message across, but for all her smarts, she couldn’t decipher what it was. 

“Have it your way.” She let out a small, mock-exasperated sigh and grinned. “Most people would fancy thinking themselves princes and you’d rather be a beast…”

He flashed a knowing grin. “Ah…I’m not most people.”

“You really aren’t, are you?” She shook her head, looking at him with unsuppressed interest. “Well, good for you. Good guys are all boring, anyways.” She shrugged and turned around, completely missing the way his eyebrows rose to that last comment. 

He wished her good night and left the diner. She hadn’t bothered looking after him, her forehead thumping against the cold counter-top. 

This night was absolutely _crazy_. She strolled to the doors and locked them for the moment as she fumbled around for the switch to shut off the red neon sign on their left store-front window, which would alert anyone still awake that they were, in fact, no longer open for business.

She moved to clear the rest of the tables and stopped dead as she reached for Mr. Gold’s empty plate. 

He didn’t pay for his pie. 

In fact, neither of them paid their bills. 

She was suddenly furious, thinking about how dead she’d be in the morning, trying to explain to Granny why there’s money missing. She didn’t care much for Mr. Gold’s pie, but Dr. Whale’s bill was substantial, the man having literally drowned his sorrows in whiskey. 

She would most _definitely_ be calling the Sheriff’s office first thing in the morning, filing a complaint and demanding a refund. 

But why would Mr. Gold neglect to pay his bill? Everyone knew that he hoarded money like Scrooge McDuck, but he never forgot to pay his bills. The man was nothing but consistent. 

Perhaps he felt entitled to a reward for saving her? That seemed pretty ridiculous, but then again… It was true that Gold never did anything for free, there was always a deal to be made, there was always something in it for him. Even so, a simple slice of pecan pie wasn’t exactly a suitable payment for his troubles. 

Maybe he simply forgot? It was a hectic situation after all, she wouldn’t be at all surprised if that were the case, but Gold really really didn’t seem like the kind of man capable of forgetting anything. The throngs of desperate debtors left in his wake were proof enough.

She felt a headache creeping up her skull and decided to dismiss the thought for now. 

She could always ask him tomorrow. If he comes for coffee. After she sues Whale’s ass.

Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.


End file.
